


At Home

by SuggestiveScribe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas fic, Coffee, Fluff, Future Fic, Games, Happy Birthday Viktor!, M/M, Weekend Getaways, and family, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9039668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuggestiveScribe/pseuds/SuggestiveScribe
Summary: “You excited to start our vacation?”  I always feel like I’m on vacation when I’m with you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarjus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarjus/gifts).



 

 

" _ Yuuri _ ." 

Yuuri swatted away the voice hovering around his ear. 

" _ Yuuri. _ "

This time the name came with a small shake to his shoulder. 

"Wake up, we have to get ready for our flight."

"Tenmrmints," Yuuri mumbled into the pillow. Hotel pillows were so plushy. Soft... feathers...

The mattress bowed and sprung under sudden bouncing weight. " _ Yuuri _ ," this time the shaking was incessant and unyielding. "Last time you did this we were almost late for our flight!"

Yuuri reluctantly blinked his eyes open. The edges were still foggy, drudging up the simple white and cream of the hotel room. But in the center were silver strands of hair and bright blue eyes. When Yuuri narrowed his vision on Viktor's eyes his lips split into a smile. 

"Good morning!" he said in lightly accented Japanese. It was such a pretty accent. As much as Yuuri enjoyed watching Viktor learn his language, he kind of hoped it never completely left. 

Yuuri reached forward and smooshed his palm against Viktor's face. "You're too bright," Yuuri slurred. "I'm blind." 

Viktor collapsed on top of him, arms wrapping into a tight hug, "You're so cute when you're unaffectionate." 

Yuuri chuckled in spite of himself. He sighed, extricating his arm from between their bodies so he could reach for his glasses. 

"Take a quick shower," Viktor spoke against Yuuri's neck. "And then," he nipped at his earlobe, "we can go." 

"Mm?" Yuuri adjusted his glasses on his nose. "You already showered?" 

" _ Yes _ ." 

Yuuri's mouth may have turned down just a bit, "Without me?"

Viktor propped himself on his elbows to properly look down at Yuuri, " _ Someone _ has to finish packing because  _ someone's _ husband wouldn't get out of bed at a decent hour..."

"Alright alright," Yuuri said, rolling over and flopping his legs over the bedside. "I'll get in the shower." 

"I left some folded clothes on the sink so I could pack the rest." Yuuri was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Viktor bounced off the mattress. When he entered the bathroom the mirror was still slightly fogged. There was a large heart drawn on it. 

_ This man is about to turn thirty-one _ .

Yuuri smiled as he shook his head to himself, twisting the knob of the shower. The water and the steam helped wake him gradually, and by the time he emerged he believed in his ability to move and behave like a functional human. After tousling his hair with a towel he set it aside, arching onto his tiptoes. He drew a second heart interlocking the first one, then returned to the main portion of the hotel room.

"Ready?" Viktor asked, grin crinkling the corner of his eyes. 

"Yeah," Yuuri responded, grabbing up a few bags. 

" _ Aww  _ you should let your hair dry more."

"You said we're in a hurr-"

"Sit down," Viktor shoved at Yuuri's shoulders until he dropped back to the bed. "One second." Viktor padded into the bathroom, returning with the standard blow-dryer equipped in every room. 

"I thought you wanted to rush out of here?" Yuuri asked as Viktor flipped the blow-dryer onto low. 

Viktor's words lilted into song, his smile ever present in his voice, " _ But baby it's cold outside. _ " 

Viktor was carding through Yuuri's hair, fingertips gently separating tufts and sliding over his scalp. Yuuri felt like he was radiating warmth, "Is that your new favorite Christmas song, Viktor?"

Viktor's hands moved to lift another section, "I like it. I think we should do a pair's routine for it." 

Yuuri blinked, "Oh? I didn't think about that."

"How could you not?" Viktor sounded affronted. 

"Um, I'm not sure?" 

"It's perfect!"

"But which one of us would be insisting they leave while the other tries to make them stay?"

The noise that left Viktor was almost a snort. It was brash enough to make Yuuri lift his eyebrows. "I think if we examine the beginning of our relationship," Viktor said carefully, "we would know I am the one begging for you to stay." 

Yuuri could feel cold eyes on his scalp. He sent his gaze to the floor, shamefully. "Yes, yes..." was his borderline dry response. 

"Katsuki Yuuri, the bully."

"I..." Yuuri bit the rebuttal silent. He thought about his next words, "I... always wanted you to stay. I prayed you'd stay..."

"I could tell," Viktor responded flatly. 

Yuuri groaned. 

"I'm allowed to be bitter about this the rest of our lives."

"I--"

"I've earned that much."

Yuuri's face was twisted in reluctance, "Yes..." 

"Anyway," Viktor was fluffing the back of Yuuri's hair. "You're almost done." 

"Thank you."

Makkachin walked over to them, resting his head on Yuuri's lap. "Morning Makkachin," Yuuri fluffed the top puff of his fur. 

"This morning when I woke up he was eyeing the cake crumbs on the plate from last night."

Yuuri smiled down at him, "Sorry, it was too delicious to leave any for you." Makkachin made a small whining noise. 

"Can you put Makkachin in his crate?" Viktor asked, turning off the hair dryer and ruffling Yuuri's hair one last time. "I'll call for a car." 

"Mm," Yuuri hummed his response. "You ready to travel Makkachin?"

Makkachin gave him a dubious look. 

Yuuri traversed the room and opened his crate, "Were you born that sassy or did you pick it up from Viktor?" 

Makkachin obediently entered the crate as Viktor called over his shoulder, "If that's the case then I'm sure Vicchan was quiet and cold to everyone until they coddled him into displaying love." 

Yuuri swung the door of the crate shut, "You're mean today, Viktor."

"I'm  _ sassy _ ." 

Yuuri whispered to Makkachin, " _ He's mean _ ." 

Their car came quickly, the ride to the airport even more so, and soon they were standing at the ticket desk and waving to a departing Makkachin. 

"We'll be together soon!" Viktor assured him. 

Makkachin was entirely nonplussed. He was a well-traveled poodle. 

The flight was a short wait, and despite Viktor's insistence that they  _ at least _ buy business class tickets for the roomier seats, he was flopped over on Yuuri's shoulder almost instantly. Yuuri wasn't surprised. He gently moved Viktor's hair out of his eyes and watched the scenery shift below him. 

Turbulence made Yuuri's stomach a bit queasy, but the height didn't. He liked being able to see over a stretched expanse that humans weren't meant to see. The clouds were layered beneath them like thick blankets. They looked soft and touchable, but mostly they looked firm. It was hard to believe that they could be passed through, or that they couldn't support his weight. 

When the plane flew lower the view cracked into color. The mountains were snow crested ripples that faded into dark green. They looked like the spiking tumultuous waves of an ocean more than solid masses. If Yuuri could paint he thought he'd like to paint them; each cliff was laid half in snow and sun and half in shadow. There was a simple beauty to it. 

" _ Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all-- _ "

Viktor stirred on Yuuri's shoulder. "Viktor," Yuuri said softly, "we'll be landing soon."

"Already? Hmm..." He sat his chin back on Yuuri's shoulder. 

Yuuri pointed out the window, "Look."

Viktor tipped his head just enough to take the scenery into view. His eyes shone bright and glittering, and Yuuri couldn't help but smile. "It's so pretty," Viktor commented. 

Yuuri turned his gaze back through the window, "Isn't it?"

The mountains and trees began to disperse the lower they flew. Wildlife yielded to cities and traffic, but Yuuri could still see it trimming the edges of the concrete. 

_ “Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land. Please make sure one last time your seat belt is securely--” _

The shaking would start soon. Then the lurching of his stomach and the rough set of wheels to the ground. Yuuri pinched his mouth closed. Viktor interlaced their fingers and smiled at him. Yuuri was certain he had a pained look on his face, but Viktor didn’t seem to mind. 

“You excited to start our vacation?”

_ I always feel like I’m on vacation when I’m with you _ . 

Yuuri gave a curt nod. Viktor leaned back heavily in his seat, beaming, “I bet we have a great time!”

The plane was rattling, his ears were popping, but Yuuri was calm. When the plane lurched onto concrete he let loose a breath that had been straining his lungs. They were here. Looking out the window earned him nothing but a corporate view of an airport. Somewhere the mountains were back there, and Yuuri looked forward to seeing them. 

Getting luggage was strenuous, picking up Makkachin was a hassle, and finding a large enough vehicle to chauffeur them to their cabin was aggravating at best. But Viktor did everything with a smile, and even if Yuuri did see the impatient tap of his loafers against the concrete when yet another public service turned him away, his demeanor kept Yuuri focused. However it  _ was  _ cold out, and both him and Makkachin grew petulant in front of the airport. 

“Thank you!” Viktor proclaimed loudly when someone finally offered their services. 

“Thank you so much,” Yuuri said politely when he slid into the van. 

“No problem at all!” The older man was sun stained and weathered. He looked like he didn’t understand unhappiness. 

It took ten minutes or so before Yuuri was given the gift of green. 

Dark green pine trees lined the roads. They sprouted through yellowed grass and patches of snow, settling densely in the creases of hills and mountains. 

Makkachin made a few small noises, crate jostling in the back of the van. Other than that it was just Viktor and Yuuri cooing over each other’s shoulders, switching their gaze from window to window as the forest unwound around them. The driver was smiling, casting a few side glances back to them. 

“It seems so peaceful here,” Yuuri said. “Everywhere is constantly busy, lit up with Christmas lights, playing loud jingle bell music…”

Viktor tilted his head at him, “I thought you liked those sorts of things?”

Yuuri blinked through the thick knit of trees, “I do…” All the colors that blurred by him were earthen. He watched a small creature scatter pine needles as it scurried away from the road, “Sometimes it’s just nice to have the quiet.” 

Viktor didn’t say anything. He adjusted in his seat, sliding his arm around Yuuri’s waist and pressing his lips into his hair. 

“Here it is!” The driver called. “Quite a nice place you rented out here.”

“Thank you sir!” Viktor responded as he moved to open the door. “We appreciate your help.”

“It was no problem at all.”

They unloaded Makkachin first, and Viktor made no hesitation to unlock the cage so he could bound into the snow. There was white dusted across wilting grass and over tiers of pine branches, but it was mostly cleared away from the small sidewalk that wound away from the road. At its end was a cabin. The exterior was the very  _ image  _ of wood cabin; logs were stylishly piled on top of logs and glossed over for a brilliant shine. The front door was cut into the center and framed by a small porch. 

It was obviously a new place designed to look old and rustic, but it did so perfectly. Yuuri took a few of their bags as Viktor unloaded them. They made their way to the porch with luggage laden arms, a very pleased poodle bouncing by their side. 

Viktor had to dig for the keys in his pocket, which earned him a pinched mouth glance from Yuuri that he did not see. Viktor slipped the key into the lock and the door opened under a gentle push of his hand. 

The first view of the cabin made Yuuri’s eyes sparkle. 

The inside matched the outside; it was stylishly rustic, cozy and nostalgic as well as modern. Everything was wooden; the rugs and furniture were a deep wine color, and the lighting was warm and welcoming. 

“There’s a fireplace!” Yuuri exclaimed. He shuffled inside and dropped his luggage, immediately stepping over to the stone fireplace in the living room. He clasped his hands together and then shot a glance over his shoulder. Viktor jumped. “Can I start one?” Yuuri asked. 

Viktor set down his bags, “A fire? Sure.” His voice had that light chuckle to it that meant he found Yuuri silly or otherwise endearing. Yuuri did not care. 

Viktor very kindly moved their luggage to a bedroom while Yuuri discovered how to use starter logs. Once the fire began to trickle through the kindling and come to life he smiled. The flare of heat on his cheeks made his skin feel tight, but he liked it. He liked the heat of the fire thawing the bitter cold of the outside. 

Viktor’s arms draped around his shoulders, his chest pressing into Yuuri’s back. “The fire is nice.”

Yuuri leaned his head back against Viktor, resting his hands on the arms Viktor had looped around his neck. “You picked a nice place,” Yuuri said. “It’s really cozy.”

Viktor pressed his lips against Yuuri’s neck, “I thought so too.”

Yuuri hummed his appreciation for the touch into the air. His eyes fluttered closed. He was held between the warmth of the fire and the warmth of Viktor’s chest. “Mmm I’m gonna sleep,” Yuuri said, further sagging against Viktor’s body. 

Viktor made a small noise, “You can’t sleep standing up; I wish I could hold you here all night but I can’t.”

Yuuri turned around in Viktor’s hold and hooked his arms around his neck. “Consider it practice for the pair skate,” he mumbled against Viktor’s throat. 

Viktor huffed a laugh, “ _ Yuu _ ri.” He raised his hands to graze his thumbs over Yuuri’s cheekbones. Yuuri opened his eyes, blinking up into shining irises. Golden firelight danced around Viktor’s pupil, burning green and brown into otherwise untainted blue. 

_ Pretty. _

Viktor’s fingers slid into the hair nestled behind Yuuri’s ear. “Let’s get a ride into town for some groceries, yeah? Then we can come back and do whatever you want.”

Yuuri kissed the corner of Viktor’s mouth. “Whatever I want?” he asked, tilting his hips toward Viktor. 

Viktor chased Yuuri’s mouth down for a kiss, capturing his lower lip. “Whatever you want,” he purred. 

“Fine,” Yuuri sighed his reluctance. “Let’s go into town.” He dropped his arms from around Viktor’s neck. 

Viktor reached up, pushing gently at the plush of Yuuri’s bottom lip with his thumb. He stared at him for a moment, firelight still there in his eyes. Yuuri’s breath caught in his chest where he stood, unmoving. Then Viktor smiled, warm and fond, and turned around. 

“There was something you wanted to make this weekend right? Do you have the recipe handy?”

Yuuri glared at his retreating shoulders. 

“Yuuri?”

“Just a minute,” Yuuri called after him, turning around to smother the fire. He glanced over at Makkachin, “Keep watch while we’re gone okay?”

Makkachin wagged his tail in hopefully understanding silence. 

Yuuri gave him a quick pat, rose to his feet, and made his way back to the front door. 

  
  


The next morning involved Yuuri recalibrating his entire brain to determine where he was. Frequent hotel stays and extended trips in Russia and Japan made waking up with a very disjointed understanding of where he was a normal occurrence. He blinked through bleary vision at walls the color of honey oak and heavy crimson curtains blocking the sun. Viktor was still sleeping beside him, breaths slow and easy. Viktor was his anchor wherever they were; if Viktor was beside him in bed he could fight off whatever first wave of uneasiness accompanied foreign surroundings. 

He allowed his legs to fall over the edge of the bed, perching his glasses on his nose. He rifled through their suitcases and threw on something that was comfortable and warm, then staggered his way out of the room and down the hall. He didn’t remember much about the kitchen, but he did remember a coffeepot. 

He stood in front of the counter, leaning his weight against it as the coffee brewed. Through the kitchen window he could see trees crowned with snow, the sun shining pure and bright light between the branches. Something in Yuuri’s soul felt settled. 

The coffeepot hailed fresh coffee with a quaint beeping noise. Yuuri poured himself a cup, not bothering to add milk or sugar. He was leaning against the counter, rim of the mug against his lip, when Viktor emerged from the bedroom. 

His hair was a wreck, strands in a messy halo around the crown of his head. He smiled a groggy, watery smile at Yuuri, “Good mor--” His eyes went wide, feet halting in place. 

“Morning?” Yuuri asked, blinking from behind the veil of steam rising between them. 

“Your outfit,” Viktor elaborated without elaborating at all. 

Yuuri glanced down at himself. “Oh yeah, do you like these?” Yuuri asked, wiggling his toes. “These are the fleece lined tights I bought a couple weeks ago.” He dusted a dog hair off the maroon fabric, “They’re good for movement and they keep my feet warm.”

Viktor shook his head, “No, not those.” He took a few quick steps toward Yuuri and pinched the cotton of Yuuri’s shirt between his fingers. “This?”

Yuuri blinked at it. The shirt was long sleeved with blue and white stripes running horizontally across it. It was a bit loose because it was--

“ _ Oh _ ,” Yuuri said. “Yeah, it’s yours, sorry.” He grinned sheepishly, fluffing the back of his hair with his hand, “I wasn’t paying much attention this morning so I just grabbed what looked comfortable from the suitcase.”

Viktor stared at him, eyes hard and considering for a moment. He then wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders and hung his weight against him. 

“Um, Viktor--”

“It’s yours,” Viktor said, voice muffled in Yuuri’s neck. “Well, not really. It’s mine, but it looks best on you. Wear it as much as you like. Just like this.” 

“Th-Thanks…”

“Mm.”

“Would you like some coffee?”

Viktor leaned back, keeping his palms locked on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’m going to take Makkachin for a walk,” he leaned back in, this time tying his arms tight around Yuuri’s waist. He nipped at Yuuri’s ear, “You stay perfect and beautiful just like this, right here.”

Yuuri could feel the heat flushing across his face and prickling at the tips of his ears. 

Viktor gave him a quick kiss to the cheek and finally pulled away, “I’ll have some coffee when we get back.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, thumbs sliding over the ceramic of his coffee mug. 

“Come on Makkachin,” Viktor patted his thigh once and Makkachin followed happily. 

A draft blew through the door as they left, and Yuuri pulled his mug closer.

When they returned, Viktor’s face was red and his hands were shaking. “Cold,” he declared. Yuuri started up another fire, pulling Viktor close to him on the floor. Viktor rubbed his palms together and held them out, absorbing the warmth. “Aah that’s better,” he sighed, winding all his limbs around Yuuri like he was human saran wrap. 

“ _ Eugh _ ,” was Yuuri’s loving response. “You  _ are  _ cold. It’s seeping into my skin.”

Viktor buried his nose in Yuuri’s shoulder, “Save me.”

The front door shook on its hinges suddenly, loud banging accompanying it. There was a muffled voice and then “OI! KATSUDON!”

Viktor and Yuuri both flashed each other a grin before Yuuri hopped to his feet and moved across the living room. Makkachin was already at the door, tail swishing across the floor. Yuuri swung open the door and was greeted by two faces, one placid and unmoving and the other pulled into a sneer. 

The sneer was slightly undermined when he sniffled hard and shivered. 

“Yurio, Otabek, glad you’re here!” 

Yuri charged into the cabin. Sometimes, because his mind loved pointing out that he was aging, Yuuri remembered Yuri the way he was when they first met. He wasn’t him, but he wasn’t  _ not _ him either. He was taller and his hair was longer, but his eyes were still sharp and his face was still beautiful. Otabek looked the same as he always did, although what Yuri’s stature once did to make him look taller now worked in reverse. 

“Where’s that old man?” Yuri demanded. 

Viktor was already rising to his feet, lending them both a small wave, “Hello!” 

Despite having asked for him, Yuri ignored him as he walked by and plopped in front of the fire. “So cold,” he sniveled, rubbing his palms over his arms. 

Yuuri turned his attention to Otabek, “How was the flight?”

“Good,” Otabek answered with a slight nod of his head. “Thank you for having us.”

“No problem,” Viktor said, draping himself over Yuuri’s shoulders. 

Otabek lifted a suitcase, “May I ask where to put these?”

Viktor pointed down the hallway, “The second bedroom is the third door on the left.”

“Thank you.” 

“Oi, Viktor.” Viktor turned his attention back to Yuri. “You guys eaten?” 

“Just coffee,” Viktor answered with a few blinks. “You want some?” 

“Uhg, like I want that bitter crap,” Yuri said, lurching from his spot on the floor and back to his feet. “Do you have something to make pirozhki with? I want to make some.”

“Oh Yurio,” Yuuri said, holding up his hand. “You just got done traveling; I can make you some--”

“Shut up Katsudon, I want my food,” he responded, walking into the kitchen with a proud spine and hands stuffed into pockets. “So just be quiet and wait.”

Yuuri lightly placed his hand on his heart, “I’m glad his kindness no longer hurts me.”

“You get used to it,” Viktor said with a bright smile. “Like going numb to everyday pains!”

“What are you chuckling about out there old man!?”

Viktor hung his head. “I’m still not good at being called old though,” he mumbled. 

Yuuri gave Viktor a consoling pat on the shoulder. 

“This place is really nice.” Viktor and Yuuri both jerked in place at Otabek’s sudden appearance. “Sorry,” he apologized. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Viktor said, recovering from being startled. 

“Wait,” Yuuri said, “do we actually have ingredients for pirozhki?” 

Viktor blinked at him, “Yeah, I bought some yesterday.”

Yuuri’s brow furrowed, “Did you know he’d want to make it?”

Viktor shrugged, “I had a feeling.”

“He recently found a new recipe he really likes,” Otabek said. “He probably wants you guys to try it.”

Yuuri glanced through the kitchen doorway. All he could see was Yuri’s lower body hanging out of the fridge. There was a small whine from the floor. 

“Hello Makkachin,” Otabek greeted. Makkachin was staring up at him, expectant. When Otabek bent down and ruffled his ears his tail began wagging immediately. 

“Makkachin has always really loved you,” Yuuri commented with a smile. 

“Which is good,” Viktor said amiably. “He’s an excellent judge of character, so if he had disliked you I would have banished you from my dwelling immediately.”

Yuuri almost choked. 

“Understandable,” Otabek responded simply, scratching behind Makkachin’s ears. 

Yuuri had to repress the urge to rub at his temples. He brought his gaze upward to glance at Viktor, “What if he had disliked me, Viktor?”

Viktor held out a hand, still smiling, “But he didn’t.”

Yuuri slowly lowered his gaze to the poodle, then patted him on the head. “ _ Thank you Makkachin _ ,” he whispered in Japanese. 

“Oi, do you guys have any popcorn?” 

“Popcorn doesn’t belong in pirozhki, Yurio,” Viktor called out to him without turning his head. 

“I’m not putting it in the pirozhki!” Yuri barked from the kitchen. “I want to watch a movie after we eat!”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Viktor cooed, eyes lighting up. “I already have one picked!” 

“DO YOU HAVE POPCORN!?”

“Yes,” Yuuri responded over his shoulder. He heard faint grumbling from the kitchen. He didn’t know a lot of Russian curses, but he thought he heard one. 

Viktor was moving to sit on the couch with Otabek and Yuuri followed suit. Otabek kept his hands politely folded in his lap. Yuuri always wondered if his demeanor was borne from nervousness or if it was just that deeply rooted in his nature that he didn’t notice it. 

“How’ve you been?” Yuuri asked. “We haven’t been able to see you guys for a few months.” 

“Mm, fine,” Otabek answered. “Yura has been fighting with Lilia a lot, but it’s only because they’ve grown so close choreographing his new piece together.” 

“Lilia and I don’t get along so well,” Viktor said, laying his arm across the back of the couch.

“That’s because you don’t respond well to such unforgiving instruction,” Yuuri explained with a nervous chuckle. 

“She needs to lighten up,” Viktor said with a shrug. “But she’s perfect for Yurio, so I’m glad she’s around.” 

“And you?” Yuuri asked Otabek. 

Otabek leaned forward on his knees, “I’ve been reading a translated novel. At its core it depicts the traditional hero’s journey cycle.” His mouth twisted in thought, “It’s a failed journey for this hero. But it made me wonder if I could translate the full cycle into a free skate program.” 

Yuuri unthinkingly mimicked his forward posture. “That’s a very interesting idea,” he said. “Would you illustrate a failed journey or a successful one?”

Otabek interlaced his fingers, “I don’t know yet. I don’t want to rely on the music to tell the story; I need to choreograph something that can depict being swept into an adventure, the hardships, the return…” 

Yuuri leaned on his palm, “I think you can. You have the proper intensity.”

“Hm,” was Otabek’s response. “I’m not sure.”

“I don’t really know what you’re talking about,” Viktor popped in. “But you speak well with your body. Might as well give it a shot!”

“Maybe,” Otabek said. His brow was furrowed as he thought. 

“It’s perfect for you Beka!” Yuri shouted angrily from the kitchen. And then, “Viktor, come here a sec!”

Viktor rose from the couch, “Yes little kitten?”

“SHUT UP.”

Yuuri used to wonder if Viktor and Yuri were actually friends. It took awhile for Yuuri to realize that being able to scream insults at each other without worry that the other still loves you is probably the deepest vein of friendship. 

“I’m glad we could come for the holiday,” Otabek said, threading his fingers together. “Yura is always so happy when he’s with you guys.”

Yuri’s voice carried through the door, “Well you’re fucking useless out there so at least your geezer ass can help me in here.”

Yuuri and Otabek both pursed their lips, eyes on the floor. 

“He’s still not the best with expression,” Otabek amended quietly. 

Yuuri and Otabek enjoyed discussing things. In general they had similar tastes, or at least analyzed pieces similarly enough to make way for easy conversation. Otabek really enjoyed literature and Yuuri really enjoyed great storytelling, whether from games or books. They were able to meet pleasantly in the middle, usually while the other two harassed each other to their heart’s content. 

When Yuri emerged with food, time had already been forgotten. They ate while the pirozhki were still hot, and Yuuri delicately nibbled at the bun to release some of the steam. Yuri appeared to make them with ground beef, peas, sauteed onions, and something else that tasted like  _ magic _ . 

Yuuri’s eyes rolled back in his head as he chewed. 

“Vkusno,” he breathed, too swept up in flavor to elevate his voice. 

“Right!?” Yuri said, sitting on the actual edge of his seat. He had taken maybe one bite of his own. “I’ve been working on my seasoning mix to get it just right.”

“ _ Aah _ ,” Viktor hummed. “It tastes like home.”

Yuri smiled. Yuuri had to blink a few times to clear his vision and burn the image into his mind. Yuri was smiling, face dusted pink, one cheek puffed out to the side as he chewed. Yuuri didn’t want to spook him, so he looked back to his pirozhki and took another bite. 

A long tendril of Yuri’s hair escaped its hold, slipping over his shoulder and threatening to stick on his food. He made a small grumpy noise, extending his arms out to hold his food away from the rogue hair. Otabek stood, withdrawing a hair tie from the ether (his pocket, probably), and smoothed Yuri’s hair away from his face. He gathered the strands in his palms before looping them into a quick ponytail. 

“Thank you,” Yuri responded, mouth still full. 

Otabek simply nodded and sat back down. 

“So you mentioned a movie,” Yuri said. 

“Yes!” Viktor’s eyes lit up. “I have one picked.” He bumped his shoulder heavily against Yuuri, “It’s scary.”

“It’s already starting to get dark,” Yuuri said, throwing a glance out the window. “Days are so short during the winter…”

“We can start soon then,” Viktor clasped his hands together happily. 

“Popcorn,” Yuri reaffirmed through a mouthful of pirozhki. 

Yuuri chuckled lightly, “Aren’t you full…?”

“His stomach is bottomless,” Otabek informed them. 

“ _ No _ ,” Yuri corrected. “I just burn a lot of calories is all.”

Viktor beamed at him, “Because you’re angry and yelling all the time.”

“I’m not angry!” Yuri shouted. He stood, plate full of nothing but crumbs. “I’m happy!” He turned on his heel to march into the kitchen. 

There was a small silence and then Otabek added, “But really, he never stops eating.”

Yuuri set his empty plate on the coffee table. “Even when I was young I couldn’t eat like that.” Yuuri propped his chin on his palm, “I gained weight if the wind blew wrong.” 

“You haven’t had much of a problem with that since we got together,” Viktor observed. “Except right before the wedding.” 

“I don’t feel as compelled to eat my feelings,” Yuuri explained, hands twiddling nervously. 

_ And all the sex helps.  _

“Also all the sex is helpful,” Viktor threw in. 

Yuuri choked on his own spit. 

“Certainly,” Otabek responded without hesitation. “It’s great exercise.” 

Yuuri pressed his hand to his chest,  _ My heart is too fragile _ . 

“Where’s the popcorn!?” Yuri yelled from the kitchen. 

“Ah, one second!” Yuuri stood, gathering all the empty plates. He entered the kitchen to see half of the kitchen cabinets flung open and Yuri’s head buried in one of them. Yuuri gently placed the plates in the sink, “I think it’s on the second highest shelf in the pantry.”

A reach that would have once prompted Yuri to stand on his toes was nothing to him now; he pulled the bags from the pantry with long limbs and grinned to himself. 

“Here,” Yuuri said, pulling a bowl from a cupboard. “For the popcorn when you’re finished.” 

“Thank you,” Yuri responded, taking it from him. 

Yuuri went back out to the living room where Viktor was just pushing a dvd into the player. He popped into a standing position, “Ready?”

“When Yurio is done,” Yuuri confirmed. 

Yuri must have made at least two bags of popcorn, easily filling and almost overflowing the bowl Yuuri had offered him. They all squeezed onto the couch, Viktor on the end with his arms wrapped around Yuuri, Yuuri and Yuri pressed flushed against one another, and Yuri with his leg slung over one of Otabek’s thighs. 

Yuri was already shoving popcorn in his face when the credits began. “ _ Ooh _ ,” the music is so haunting,” Viktor said, squeezing around Yuuri tighter. 

It seemed like a standard ghost story. They worked to build tension and atmosphere right away; the setting was an old victorian home filled with soft lighting and creaky floors. 

“You ever wonder about the ghosts,” Yuuri asked, watching as the lead character peered around a corner. 

“Hah?” Yuri asked, throwing him a sideways glance. 

Yuuri shrugged, “What if they don’t know they’re dead. What if they think they’re being haunted by humans?”

Yuri threw popcorn at his face, “Don’t be weird Katsudon.”

Yuuri picked up the pieces that landed on his lap and popped them into his mouth. 

The first jumpscare almost sent Yuri to the ceiling, his entire body jolting upright and winding up  _ that much _ more on Otabek’s lap. 

“ _ Ooh, scary _ ,” Viktor cooed. He nuzzled his face into Yuuri’s neck. His next words were a hyperbolic pout in Japanese, “Yuuri I’m  _ scared _ .”  

Yuuri patted Viktor’s thigh without averting his vision. 

Yuri untied his hair and allowed it to fall back over his shoulders, shielding part of his face from view. Otabek was watching with complete stoicism. He looked more statue than human. Viktor was slowly winding his entire body around Yuuri, legs draped over his laps, arms in a tight vice around his midsection, face buried in Yuuri’s hair. 

The first major appearance of the ghost rendered Yuri pale, and he nervously vibrated his way directly into Otabek’s lap. He was trying for composure with his face, but even the veil of hair couldn’t hide the wide eyed attention on the screen. 

_ Perhaps Otabek doesn’t get frightened by scary movies _ , Yuuri thought vaguely to himself.  _ I hope he’s enjoying it. _

Then a loud clang sounded from the kitchen, possibly a plate adjusting in the sink, and Otabek jerked so fiercely that he flung the bowl of popcorn straight into the air. Yuri squawked, flying up almost in tandem with the popcorn, and Viktor whooped himself into a hard fit of laughter.  

Yuuri had to slap his hand over his mouth, but even then his laughter bubbled over his hand and he was left gasping in small breaths for air.  

“Goodness, I’m sorry,” Otabek said, looking at the scattered popcorn. His voice was perfectly level, “That was terrifying.” 

Makkachin hurriedly scrambled over to take part in the fallen popcorn. 

Viktor was still in the middle of a laughing fit, and Yuri was sitting there, eyes blown wide and traumatized. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri wheezed. He stood, pausing the movie. “Just one second while I get a broom.”

After cleanup and resuming the movie Yuri curled into a protective ball on Otabek’s lap, Otabek relinquished all control of the popcorn, and Makkachin wedged himself between Yuuri and Yuri. 

Then the twist was revealed and Yuri shot to his feet, face twisting in anger. “WHAT!?”

Yuuri allowed his gaze to float off to the side. 

Yuri was yelling, “THEY WERE GHOSTS ALL ALONG!?”

“Wow!” Viktor chirped. 

“What a twist,” Otabek approved with a nod of his head. 

Yuri glared down at Yuuri, “HAVE YOU WATCHED THIS MOVIE BEFORE, KATSUDON?”

Yuuri held up his hands, “No, I swear--”

Yuri lunged at Yuuri across the couch, grabbing at his collar and shaking him, “YOU’RE LYING!” 

Makkachin yipped and fled from the couch. 

“My Yuuri is so smart,” Viktor said, pride in his voice. 

Yuri was still shaking him, “HOW DID YOU KNOW?”

“I didn--”

“HOW!?”

Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle, even as he was being violently jostled in his seat. 

It was nice to know he could be in the middle of nowhere in the mountains and still feel perfectly at home. 

  
  


The next night was defined by Chris’ rum cake. 

_ Boopbeepboopboopboobeedoodleoop _ .

Chris’ face appeared in the frame of Viktor’s outstretched phone. 

“Chris!” Viktor greeted with a wave. 

“Hello Chris!” Yuuri said, popping his face into view of the camera. 

“Oh, it’s both of you,” Chris rested his chin in his hand with a fond smile. “How’s vacation?”

“IT’S GREAT!” Yuri yelled from behind them, voice sitting in its normal (angry) register. “Except Katsudon is drinking and making me nervous.” 

“Evening!” Otabek called from behind them, raising a single hand to hail hello to Chris. 

“Oh, four of you,” Chris said, raising his eyebrows. “So what do I owe the honor?” Then he turned his attention to Yuuri, “And don’t drink too much; remember there’s no pole dancing without me.”

Yuuri chuckled as he ruffled the back of his hair, “I’m not…” 

“I don’t trust you around alcohol at all,” Yuri mumbled. “I thought the banquet was bad until the wedding happened.”

Chris smiled, “I have nothing but fond memories.”

Yuri glared at him, “Easy for the drunk ones to say to the sober ones.”

“I thought your moves were impressive,” Otabek complimented. 

“Thank you,” Chris purred. 

“So,” Viktor interrupted, recentering his head in the frame. “We actually need to speak to your husband.” 

“ _ Oh? _ ”

“The rum cake he made last time we visited was the best I’d ever had,” Yuuri told him decisively. He bowed slightly, “Please ask him to impart his knowledge to us!”

There was a special sort of sparkle in Chris’ eyes, “I’ll go get him.”

Gold hair and caramel eyes were soon taking the majority of Viktor’s screen. He folded his hands in front of himself, “Part of the key is to use two types of rum; a heavier one for the cake and a sweeter and tangier one for the glaze.”

“Roger!” Yuuri called. 

“Also, once you’re ready to glaze…”

They decided to embark on the journey together. Yuuri took the lead, buzzed and flushed-faced as he was. At some point he and Yuri wound up dutifully sharing the kitchen; Yuuri remembered all the important cooking nuances and Yuri kept him from spilling cake and pudding mix everywhere.  

As they allowed the cake to rest in its pan they sipped at the sweeter rum, save for Yuri who was more than content with orange soda. “You’re a cautionary tale for me,” he explained to Yuuri. 

“I’m…” Yuuri chuckled maybe a little too heartily. “I am not the standard for drunkenness.” 

Viktor shrugged, cheeks rosy, “Yurio doesn't need to drink; he engages in dance battles and other madness without it.”

“A point well made,” Otabek agreed. 

Yuri huffed, “It’s not my fault all my role models are morons.” 

“Morons you  _ love _ ,” Viktor said, encasing him in a tight hug. 

“Wait,” Yuuri said, setting down his drink as his eyes went wide. “ _ Role Models? _ ”

“ _ Role models! _ ” Viktor cooed loudly, cheek squishing right against Yuri’s face. 

“That’s not what I meant!” Yuri shouted. “I wanted to say peers but you’re both old geezers, that’s it!” 

Yuuri flopped over Yuri’s other shoulder, “ _ Aww we love you too Yurio! _ ”

“Gross,” Yuri wheezed from where he was pressed between them. “You guys are gross.” 

Otabek snapped a picture when they weren’t paying attention, so later they had proof that Yuri was smiling. 

  
  


“Let’s play Spyfall!” 

Yuuri blinked up at Yuri from where he was seated on the floor, “Spyfall?”

Yuri thrust forward a box, “It’s a game.” Yuuri took it from his hands and Yuri turned his attention back to a blank wall, “That’s actually for you. I bought an english version for us to play together.”

“Oh,” Yuuri held the box against his chest. “Thank you Yurio!”

“Whatever,” Yuri said, plopping down on the floor. “Have to appease the sad member of the group that doesn’t know Russian.”

The smile on Yuuri’s face broke. 

Otabek pulled the coffee that was stationed in front of him into his hands, “You said you were impressed with how much he’d learned at the rink, though.”

Yuri buried his mouth in the palm of his hand, “Be quiet Beka.”

“So how do you play?” Yuuri asked, flipping the box over to read the back. 

“It’s easy,” Yuri said. 

“Oh, Spyfall!” Viktor called as he returned from the kitchen. He lowered himself onto the ground next to them. “I haven’t played in awhile.”

“Basically one player is a spy and the rest aren’t,” Yuri said. He took the box from Yuuri’s hands and opened it. “Everyone gets a card stating where and who they are, except one person is just a spy.” 

“Okay…” Yuuri blinked at the table as Yuri threw out some random cards as examples. 

“The goal is for the nonspy players to determine the spy, and for the spy to blend in. They win if the group votes that someone else is the spy, or if the spy can figure out where the group is.”

“All information gathered is through questions that everyone asks in turns,” Otabek elaborated. 

“Yeah,” Yuri said. 

Yuuri took off his glasses to wipe a smudge from the lens with his shirt, “So it’s like a tactical information game.” 

“Yep!” Viktor cheered. Otabek nodded. 

“Alright,” Yuuri said, putting his glasses back on his nose and standing. “I can do that.” He held out his hand, “Anyone want Bailey’s in their coffee?”

“I do!” Viktor said with a raise of his hand. 

“Sure,” Otabek answered. 

“Keep me out of your buzzed shenanigans,” Yuri said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Yuuri smiled down at him, “Would you like a hot chocolate?” 

Yuri’s gaze slipped to the side, “Yes please… and if you could use the cream like yesterday…”

“Of course,” Yuuri responded, turning to go to the kitchen. He brought the bottle of Bailey’s out with him to add to Otabek’s coffee after he made Viktor’s and his own. It would help Yuuri be less fidgety when he played. 

Hopefully. 

They weren’t two minutes into the game when Yuri leaned on the table, glaring across it at Yuuri, “You’re the spy aren’t you?”

“We haven’t even done anything!” Yuuri countered. 

“You just have an untrustworthiness to you,” he said with narrowed eyes. 

“Hahahah,” Viktor laughed from the side. “Kitten is ready to pounce.”

“Shut up Viktor!”

“This Bailey’s is great,” Otabek said, coffee mug hovering below his lips. 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

A few minutes later Yuri was pounding his fist on the table, “I want to accuse Katsudon of being the spy!” 

“Sounds like something a spy would say,” Yuuri said flatly. 

“I don’t think it’s him,” Viktor told Yuri with a shrug. 

“Mm, me neither,” Otabek agreed. 

“ _ Beka _ ,” Yuri dragged the name out. “Don’t you see?” 

“Your motion to accuse me has failed,” Yuuri said with a smile. “I’d like to accuse Yurio of being the spy.”

“Passed,” Viktor agreed. 

“Passed,” Otabek said. 

“WHAT!?”

“Show us your card,” Viktor said. 

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS,” Yuri said, slamming his card down on the table. They all moved to peer at it. 

“Oh,” Viktor said. 

“Oh…” Otabek echoed. 

It was a nonspy card. 

Yuuri started chuckling. 

“I TOLD YOU!” Yuri shouted. 

“So…” Otabek’s eyes slid to the side. “The spy was…”

Yuuri laid his spy card down on the table, smile exceedingly bright, “I win!” 

Yuri launched himself across the table for a second round of jostling. 

  
  


The fireplace cast warm golden light against all of their cheeks. Everyone was curled up in blankets, spread out in front of the firelight with comfortable clothes and messy hair. 

“I want to go first,” Yuri declared. He pushed a package at both Yuuri and Viktor. “For the both of you.”

They unwrapped it together, tearing carefully at the paper before revealing a rectangular box. When they opened the lid they discovered matching leopard print sweaters, side by side. 

“Because you two are gross enough to wear matching clothes in public,” Yuri told them. 

“Thank you Yurio!” They chimed in unison. Yuuri could almost heart Viktor’s thoughts; he knew them because he knew it was the same as his own:

_ We’re wearing these matching sweaters next time we go out with you.  _

“My gift for you is small Yurio,” Yuuri said, pushing a tiny wrapped package across the floor. 

Yuri tore into the wrapping savagely, and his eyes grew wide, “Is this the one?”

“Yes,” Yuuri said with a tip of his head to the side. “That’s the one.”

Otabek turned his attention toward Yuri, “What is it?”

“This J-Rock band,” Yuri was scrambling to his feet, flipping on the dvd player as he unsealed the CD. “You have to listen to number seven; it’s such a perfect free skate song.”

“It was out of print when Yurio tried to buy it last time he visited,” Yuuri explained. “He heard it when we were in the car a long time ago. Took me awhile to figure out the band.”

“You know Lilia won’t allow you to skate to something not composed for you,” Viktor said, leaning on his knee. 

“An exhibition skate then,” Yuri said, brushing Viktor’s commentary aside. The music started playing and Yuri lifted his arm, gently swishing it through the air. “That melody,” he said, closing his eyes. 

“It’s very pretty,” Otabek agreed. 

The song then exploded from a gentle plucking of strings into hard rock music. 

“GOD!” Yuri shouted, pulling his arm out of a gently motion to clench his fist. “It’s perfect!” 

“Aah, I actually quite like this,” Viktor hummed. 

“It’s very your style, Yura,” Otabek said as he watched Yuri do a small spin on the wooden floor. He was smiling like the gesture came from the deepest part of his chest. 

“I have a present for Makkachin,” Otabek said, holding up a small bag. Makkachin immediately lifted his head, tipping it to the side at Otabek. “When Yura bought your matching sweaters,” He said, leaning over to Makkachin so he could reach him, “I thought the whole family should match.” He brought out a leopard print collar, which immediately earned him a vicious tail wag and a shaking of hind quarters. “Oh, do you like it?” Otabek asked him, undoing the collar so he could wind it around Makkachin’s neck. “I was nervous.” Makkachin eased Otabek’s fear by licking him, full and wet on the face. 

“Good,” Otabek said, falling onto his back and laughing as Makkachin covered him in sloppy kisses. “I’m so glad.”

“These are all for you, Yurio,” Viktor said, placing a bag on the table. Yuri flinched at the largeness of it. Viktor shrugged, “Whenever I see leopard print I think of you and I’m compelled to buy it.” He smiled, “I have a compulsive spending problem.”

“He really does,” Yuuri agreed lowly. 

“The top thing is the best though.” Viktor added, “In my opinion.”

When Yurio pulled the top item free it was a pair of leopard print converse sneakers,  _ knee high _ . 

“THEY’RE PERFECT,” Yuri screamed. 

“ _ Aah, I’m glad _ ,” Viktor said, smile easy. Yuri sprinted off to the bedroom, and when he returned he was wearing black tights and new knee high leopard sneakers. 

“Fuck yes,” was his own personal appraisal. 

Otabek nodded his approval, 

“Otabek, I wasn’t positive what to get you,” Yuuri said, sliding a heavy box forward. “But last time you talked about that composer you loved so…”

Otabek undid the package and revealed piles of bound sheet music. His face was so completely soft that it made Yuuri’s chest hurt. “Thank you,” he responded, voice genuine as he flipped open the first page. 

“Beka and I had trouble with you two,” Yuri said, walking over to the front door. “This is mostly for the Katsudon, but Viktor will like it too, probably.” He threw on the coat he had hanging in the entryway and then opened the door, “I’ll be right back.”

Makkachin had settled with his head in Otabek’s lap and his tail flopped over Yuuri’s. 

“Rough day, huh Makkachin?” Viktor asked him. Makkachin wagged his tail once in response. 

When Yuri returned it was with an object that utilized most of his wingspan; he held his arms wide, shimmying through the door sideways. He kicked the door shut behind him. There was a sheet draped over the item, showing it was thin and rectangular. He propped it on the table, holding the top in his hand. 

“Here, Katsudon.” 

Yuuri blinked at it, reaching toward the sheet tentatively. When he tugged it free his eyes immediately grew wide, breath going still and quiet in his chest. 

Yuri wasn't looking at him. “I know you picked up everything and moved to Russia to train with us…” 

Yuuri’s fingertips shook when he touched them to the gift, brushing softly against canvas.

“And I know it’s not the same,” Yuri went on, face growing red. “But I thought it might be nice to see home.”

Spread out in front of Yuuri’s eyes was a painting of Hasetsu, the shore tapering into waves and a brilliant calm horizon. The land edged away from the ocean and up into cliffside and trees, winding pavement and a tall shrine. 

Yuuri blinked. Tears dropped out of his eyes. 

He stood, quiet, and threw his arms around Yuri’s shoulders. 

“Oi,” Yuri said, but his voice was gentle. “Don't get weird Katsudon.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri sniffled. Tears were falling from his eyes and into Yuri’s leopard print cardigan. 

Yuri made a noise. It was a small  _ hic  _ sound that was almost lost. But when Yuuri pulled away, Yuri’s eyes were glossy, his chin very decidedly pointing away from Yuuri. “I don’t know what to do with you like this,” Yuri said, pushing Yuuri away from him a little even as his voice cracked. 

“ _ But it’s beautiful! _ ” Yuuri said in something like an accusing sob. 

“There there,” Otabek said, patting at Yuuri’s lower back. Yuuri sat on the floor and smooshed his crying face against Otabek’s shoulder, embracing him tightly, “Thank you Otabek.”

Yuri was still standing up, shoulders jumping, and then he eventually crumpled next to Otabek too, tears falling over his cheeks. “I hate you Katsudon,” he wheezed, hugging Otabek and inadvertently embracing Yuuri as well. 

Otabek patted both of their shoulders together. “You two are very sweet,” he said. 

“How’s it feel to be a father of two?” Viktor asked him. Yuuri didn’t have to look at him to hear the smile in his voice. 

“I’m very proud,” Otabek answered. 

“Okay but,” Yuuri sat up, wiping the tears away from his cheeks and readjusting his glasses. “We have one more thing.”

“Right,” Yuri said, straightening. His eyes were red-rimmed, but they were back to being pointed and filled with pride. 

“We worked together on your birthday gift,” Yuuri said, turning his attention to Viktor. 

Viktor blinked at him, looking genuinely startled. Then he laughed, cheeks balling up under his eyes, “Oh right, my birthday.”

Yuri made a noise that sounded like, “ _ Pchh. _ ” 

“You’re rich and weird,” Yuri went on to accuse him. “It was hard to think of anything.”

Yuuri reached down to a small wrapped package and held it out to Viktor, “So the three of us worked to make this.” 

“I didn’t need anything,” Viktor said, eyes wide and innocent. 

“Shut up and open the present,” Yuri demanded. Yuuri nodded twice in agreement. 

Viktor undid the wrapping, carefully pulling the tape from paper. Once unveiled Viktor saw a disk in a clear case, permanent marker scrawled across it:

“ _ A Tribute to Viktor Nikiforov-Katsuki _ ”. 

He looked up at them. They were all exceptionally still and silent. 

“Put it in the dvd player,” Yuuri said, gently tapping his thigh. Viktor rose, ejecting Yuri’s rock music and inserting the disk. When the TV flickered to life Yuuri was there, smiling on-screen. 

“Your birthday is always difficult,” he said from the middle of an ice-rink. Viktor sent Yuuri a sideways glance, but Yuuri was sure to keep his eyes on the screen. Viktor refocused his attention. “So Yurio, Otabek, and I decided to try something different this year.” Yuuri was wringing his hands in his lap. “You told me that I gave you life and love,” Yuuri’s words were confident but his face was red, and he felt himself blushing all over again at the line. “But I don’t think you realize how much life and love you gave everyone else.” 

Viktor somehow went more still in his seat. It was difficult to believe he was breathing. 

The on-screen Yuuri smiled, “So I figured I’d show you.” 

Yuuko skated on-screen, followed by her husband and triplets. “Yuuko here!” she said with a wave. Viktor blinked. “I followed your career since I was a little girl,” she told him, “and my girls grew up loving you since the moment they saw you.”

“The very first moment!” the three of them said in unison. 

Viktor was watching quietly, his eyes immovably trained on the TV. “So we wanted to thank you for inspiring us with your skating!” She bowed slightly, “Thank you for all your hard work!” She skated to the center of the rink, there was a pause, and then the music started. The moment the first note played, Viktor raised his eyebrows. It was an old song from one of his first routines. Yuuko skated a simplified pair skate with Takeshi as the girls twirled and skated around them. When their song came to an end, Phichit’s face appeared on-screen. 

“Hello Viktor! Glad to know you’re doing well!” He grinned, “I’ve known about you since I was a boy, and I learned even more about you rooming with Yuuri.” He laughed, and a smile cracked over Viktor’s lips. “Your skating was always a true performance, and it made me realize that I wanted to perform with my skating too; to tell a story rather than just accrue points.” He inclined his head, “Thank you for inspiring me and helping me realize what I truly wanted.” When he skated backward the music started. 

“My routine,” Viktor whispered. 

Phichit spun and sliced across the ice, weaving a tale Viktor had told when he was sixteen.

“My name is Seung-Gil.”

“Hello, Sara Crispino here!” 

“I’m Minami Kenjirou and you’re my biggest idol’s idol; you’re my super idol!”

“You know me, iiiit’s  _ JJ _ !”

Viktor’s mouth slowly lolled open. Skater after skater, song after song, people he knew and people he didn’t, performed his routines to his music. 

“You made me fall in love with skating.”

“Your skating made me realize it was an art.”

“You inspired me to choreograph my own programs again.” 

Yuuri came back onscreen, and he smiled softly. The music for agape started. 

Viktor’s hand shook as he watched Yuuri dance, body tightly wound in white fabric, skating to a theme he’d never tackled before. “You’re skating agape,” Viktor whispered. 

“Well,” Yuuri said, resting his hand on Viktor’s thigh. “You did teach me what love was.”

Viktor rested his hand on Yuuri’s. It trembled. “You were perfect,” he said in a small breath.

When Yuri came on screen he said nothing, much like Yuuri. Then the music started and Viktor gasped. “Stay by Me” played from the speakers, and Yuri reached out to someone who wasn’t there. For a moment. 

Then Otabek skated into the rink and they performed Viktor and Yuuri’s duet, glide by glide, lift by lift. When they reached the end Yuri and Otabek bowed and Yuri looked into the camera and just said, “Thank you. For everything.” 

The screen went black. They were all still, entirely quiet, and Viktor’s shoulders softly shook. Tears dropped heavy from his eyes and onto Yuuri’s hand. He gasped for small breaths, pale lashes sifting through salty tears. “Thank you,” he breathed. He squeezed his hand tight around Yuuri’s. “Thank all of you.” 

  
  


They loaded all of Yuri and Otabek’s things into the car, breaths puffing into the air like steam. “Grandpa wouldn’t mind seeing you again,” Yuri told them both, slamming the last door shut. “Whenever you two want to visit.” 

Viktor smiled, “We’ll come by.” Yuri nodded. 

“Thanks for staying!” Yuuri called. 

“Thank you for having us,” Otabek agreed. 

“Yeah it was great, but,” Yuri turned around, glaring as he pointed a sharp finger at Viktor, “next year I’m picking the movie.”

Yuuri and Viktor both blinked as Yuri shuffled around to the passenger side of the car. “... next… year?” 

Yuri threw them a glance as if they were both being dense, “Yeah. It’s a tradition now, right?”

Yuuri’s fingers squeezed Viktor’s where they were intertwined. He smiled, “Yeah. Tradition.”

Yuri gave them both a curt nod, ducking into the vehicle. They waved to each other, and Viktor and Yuuri watched them wind away from the forest and back toward civilization. 

It was never too late to build a life. Yuuri rested his forehead against Viktor’s shoulder. It was never too late to build traditions, or to build a family. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> [http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com](http://suggestivescribe.tumblr.com/)


End file.
